


Cracked, Not Broken

by JustJames



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning
Genre: Anxiety, Budding Love, Bulimia, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/M, I can send Tommy to space for all I care, I got drunk and said "I want a fanfic" so here you go, Im not a writer I just want something catered to me, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, MORE TOMMY, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, This aint the 70s, different timeline, enjoy?, modern times because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-08 01:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJames/pseuds/JustJames
Summary: Jillian is a quiet, empty shell of a human being. Torment ate away at her mind and body for years, the multiple ward stays of her past only solidified her belief that she was broken. That she was nothing. Her spirit was gone. She was just a machine.New to the slow Texan town, turns out that sheriff isn't a fucking sheriff and there's a big machine sat right next to her. The chainsaw has power even when not running. It's sharp teeth dig into her thigh. That sting reminds her who the real machine is, capable of complete destruction at the slightest pull of a cord.She, is most definitely alive. And her body hurts deeper than any prick of the saw.





	1. The Rearview Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> There wasn't enough Tommy content. This also is not in the 70's because like I said in the tags, I could send Tommy to space for all I care. Anyways I'm NOT a writer, its not something I do, ever, and it WILL show. I have a small vocabulary and horrible sense of pacing. Enjoy maybe. Or hate tremendously.
> 
> I noticed Leatherface was into music in the 2nd and 3rd movies as well as the 2003 remake. Im keeping that a thing.

God was it hot as hell on the road. With each step of her boots, the heat radiating off the asphalt made her feet throb. The beads of sweat rolling down her skin felt like insects, soaking the back of her shirt. Though it wasn’t something she would easily get used to, the heat could be tolerated. It was the silence that she needed to get used to. 

The single lane road stretched into the distance, wide open land on both sides, a large clear view of the sky overhead. The brown bag that hung across her shoulder rattled rhythmically, as the keychains clanked into each other. If she were still in California, she would have held those noisy keychains tight in her fist to prevent anyone from hearing her- and following her. But out here in Texas, she felt that she truly was alone. Even the occasional run down barn looked completely abandoned as she admired them. Spooky, but really charming. 

These abandoned sheds and barns had some fabulous atmosphere to them that she always appreciated. A quick photo would give her an opportunity to draw the building later, or simply look back at it for inspiration. Reminding herself to not go overboard with the photos, this was a walk she planned on taking often. Maybe taken every day if no one questioned her about it. 

With her footsteps starting to bore her, she pulled out a pair of earbuds from her bag. A quick skim through her ipod and her world was filled with the power of sound. Two dried twigs on the ground became her drum sticks, following the beat as her mind wandered. Brown hair boobed and swayed with her movements, and began to stick to the sweat down her neck. As she slipped a hair tie off her wrist and up into a ponytail, a police cruiser pulled alongside her, slowly, observing. 

It wasn’t until the vehicle was in her line of sight, that she had noticed it there. Her hand rest on her chest as the other pulled the ear buds away, with a startle. She stood facing the window that rolled down. Empty roads AND a sheriff patrolling? She had already felt safe out here, but this was just icing on top. Delicious sweet icing, God she’s been craving icing for four days.    
  
“Well now, Little Miss~”   
  
The driver’s voice broke through her food fantasy, “Sheriff.” She smiled, remembering to always be polite with the law. She gave an embarrassed chuckle, “Didn’t hear you come up..”    
  
“What in the world are you doin' out here?” The sheriff looked her up and down as he chewed his tobacco.    
  
“Oh I’m just walking. It’s nice out here.” She tried to keep her voice pleasant. Normally she is very monotone and robotic, and over the years has learned people interpret her voice as angry. It took an effort to sound cheerful, it just wasn’t how she functioned normally. She remembered to smile again. Even smiling took effort. Meeting the sheriff with a resting bitch face didn’t seem like a very good first impression. With a little dip of her head she noticed someone else in the passenger seat, assumed to be a man (a big man), though she didn’t get a good enough view through the open window to see his face. 

“You shouldn’t be out here, go on back to town now.” He spit casually onto the pavement and continued to chew.  
  
“Oh shit, am I on private property?”

“You watch your mouth young lady”. This seemed to irritate him. “What’s in the bag there?”

The man in the passenger seat gave a sigh, just wanting to go home. His uncle liked to play games though. The more his uncle spoke to the woman, the more monotone her voice became. She couldn’t hold the facade for long, and he noticed. His right arm rested out the passenger window, fingers tapping the door in anticipation. 

The sheriff stepped out the car and walked the woman towards the trunk, to go through her bag. She knew this wasn’t fair treatment since she did nothing wrong, but it wasn’t worth arguing about. She had nothing to hide and wanted to avoid conflict. She figured the sheriff was just bored and wanted to spice up the job for once. Can’t blame the guy, let him has his fun. 

“What’s your name, little lady?” The sheriff dug through her bag. Phone, keys, wallet, the usual. Pens and pencils, a little travel sketchbook, ipod, medication. She felt her cheeks burn when her tampon stash was revealed. He seemed more interested in the plastic bag of mixed medications.   
  
“Um.. Jill. Jillian” She eyed the sheriff’s name tag. Hoyt. She’ll remember that. 

“And what do we have here?” He sounded very pleased.  


“It’s just medicine. I get migraines and stuff so… I like to have it on me.”

“Migraines huh”

“Yeah.. well that red one is just ibuprofen. But the others are for migraines and nausea. And well.. I mean the inhaler is kind of obvious”. Jill chuckled to herself. Though with her robot voice she was certain it sounded like attitude. Dammit. The sheriff looked her over in silence. 

“Get in th’ car”

“O-oh.. okay.. Am I in trouble?” Jill had a habit of being too obedient. Conflict was something she had always tried tremendously to avoid, even since childhood. She never had much chance to have opinions of her own growing up, so she learned to go along with the ways of others without complaint. “What side do I get in on?” 

Sheriff Hoyt gave another casual spit to the ground as he opened the back door for her. She went to enter but froze before getting her foot in. 

“Big.” She stared wide eyed at the chainsaw sitting in the back seat. A distressed whine came from the man in the passenger seat, knowing the chainsaw was taking space. It was obvious he was reaching to move it. “No no it’s okay! I’ll just go on the other side, it’s fine” Not wanting to be a burden, she went to the other door behind the passenger seat. That chainsaw was even bigger than she thought, taking up space across the entire back seat. “I guess I’m going in the trunk then” Jill muttered to herself. She could have sworn the man had snickered. Surprised he heard her poor sense of humor, she looked up into the rearview mirror meeting his eyes. He turned away facing the window. 

“Hurry up” the sheriff was out of patience. 

Jill carefully sat beside the chainsaw, pressing herself against the door not wanting to bump the tool. If they were to get in a wreck, that thing would tear right through her. Maybe it needs a seat belt. Her lame jokes never failed her, though she was well aware they weren’t meant to be said out loud. Her bag was tossed into the passenger’s lap, who flinched, not expecting it. Immediately his curiosity got the best of him, having a look through her things. Maybe this guy was off duty or something. She observed as much of him as their positioning allowed. Big arms, messy brown hair, mask. He was looking at the ipod. 

“There’s an auxiliary cord in there.. It’s the little cassette tape thing. It can play through speakers of older cars” She tried to lean over to get a better look through the gate separating the front and back seats. Her thigh pressed into the teeth of the chainsaw and she leaned back into her place beside the door. She chewed her bottom lip as the sheriff spoke up. 

“Hey look at that Tommy, you’ll love that wont you”

It didn’t take long for heavy metal to blast through the old speakers, bringing them to life. In any cartoon, dust would shake off the speakers, that’s for sure. 

“Aw c’mon Tommy none of that crap!” Hoyt reached for the volume, only to be denied by Tommy every time. 

“You have good taste” Jill smile and nodded, amused. “Nice to be around other metals heads for once” 

Tommy didn’t react much to her. He sifted through her bag more, looking over the buttons covering the front, and the many keychains hanging off its side. He flipped through the sketchbook: she drew cartoons. 

“That’s nice, huh?” Hoyt looked over at the pages being turned by Tommy. “Miss Jillian the artist. Heh” 

Her cheeks burned as Tommy situated the rearview mirror to look back at her again. Focusing on the music, she watched the tall grass pass by outside, hoping she could get the damn blushing to stop. This isn’t helping with the heat, being embarrassed like this. She felt blatantly ignored by these two, going through her things right in front of her. She braved another glance to the mirror making eye contact with Tommy. They stared at each other in silence.

Wow..She’s gotta draw those brown eyes of his when she gets the free time. 


	2. Typical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi depression sure is a thing.  
> Anyways welcome back to bullshit hours.  
> This is for my own enjoyment, so dont expect anything worth while out of me. This site is full of incredible writers and you should go support them. 
> 
> Im literally making this up as i go, as you can so clearly see. 
> 
> Ive never typed anything coherent in my entire life.  
> Have a pleasant evening!

 Jill knew this whole situation was stupid. She just wanted to walk, alone. She just wanted to move her legs and get some air. Finally the opportunity to get a routine in. Finally some form of exercise (especially after her humiliating excursion through the fridge last night) but this sheriff had to sit her ass down in the back of his car without the chance to really burn any of the calories. Typical. Who knows how long this is going to take. She never realized some fucking ibuprofen would lead to fingerprints at the sheriff's office. Absolutely ridiculous. She consciously bounced her legs, making an effort. At least if she could get her legs to burn, then maybe she would feel like she had accomplished something.

Tuning out Hoyt’s voice, she kept her eyes to the window. He spoke to Tommy directly, so the conversation didn’t involve her. Honestly it felt like every other car ride she had been in: people spoke around her as she sunk into the seat. Growing up with a more than chatty brother, she learned to keep her words to herself. Even if she tried to speak up she wouldn't have had the chance to get a word in, her brother always seemed to take up every last breath of air when talking. He talked enough for everyone in that house, there really was no point in even trying. She couldn’t exactly blame him, when he was in a manic episode he had non-stop energy, and a mouth that just couldn’t be shut. So she kept to herself, and after living with him for two decades, it had become what she was used to. It became how people knew her. Jill was The Quiet One. On the rare occasions back home where she had the opportunity to speak, she found it hard to break silence. It just didn’t feel right. Besides, she never felt like she had anything important to say. Nothing was ever worth sharing in that house in California, and she learned to be okay with that. She had no choice but to be okay with that.

Every bump on the road sent the teeth of the saw digging into her thigh. Pressing herself further into the door on her right was useless. It just wasn't physically possible to get out of its way. She couldn’t suck in her thighs. God she wished she could.. The longer she acknowledged the amount of space her legs took up, the bigger they seemed to get. But this wasn’t the place to inspect and rip apart her appearance. That was her private ordeal and the back of a cop car was anything but private. Focusing on the sting in her thigh kept her mind above water.

That chainsaw was big. Looked mean, too. Apparently important enough to get its own seat in the back rather than be placed in the trunk. Maybe it's got a name, Jill thought. She had the habit of naming her own inanimate objects, it made it easier to scold them when they didn't work properly. But those were all items less threatening than a chainsaw: toys, supplies, and electronics. Scold that machine, and by the looks of its teeth, it just might bite back.

The music cut off, conversation ending. With quick removal of the key, the sheriff shut down the engine and stepped out of the car. Jill raised her head to observe her surroundings. An empty gas station, abandoned by the looks of it. Not even a tumbleweed, she noticed. And what a perfect opportunity it would be, out of a cartoon, the lone tumbleweed rolling across the dirt and vanishing into the dusty nothingness off screen.

Wait. There's a light on in there. This place isn't actually operating, is it? Now that she thinks about it, they hadn’t passed one single car on the road this whole time. Man that stupid tumbleweed really would have been perfect.

Originally from a busy city in California, the concept of traveling to a tiny 'Middle of Nowhere’ town had its charm. But this.. This had nothing. Sure the old building looked interesting, but.. Really?.. At least 'The Middle of Nowhere’ had life, according to imagination. This place must have died out a long time ago. She didn't yet know if that was a good or bad thing. She had time to decide.

Lost in her observations, Jill didn't notice she was completely alone. Those two men had left her trapped in the back of the car, unable to open her door from the inside. Fuck it's hot as hell without any windows cracked. This heat only made her headache worse. What could those two be doing in there anyways..

The silence was a bit unnerving. This kind of silence just didn’t exist back home. Traffic on the road, helicopters, neighbors, there was always some form of white noise going on at all hours. California was always alive. But in this car, her own breath felt too loud. Just existing in this silence felt like a burden. A disturbance. Miles from home and The Quiet One was still an annoyance to her surroundings. There really wasn't a way to make it stop. The silence enhanced her noise and her noise enhanced the silence. Her breathing, her heartbeat, it was all too loud, and if her mother were here.. Well.. Thank god her mother wasn’t here. That's not even worth thinking about. Jill moved to this town for a reason and it wasn't to spend time thinking about her mother.

The air came to life as the two men had returned, opening the doors and cutting through the silence. Thank god.. They’re hands were empty though. Was this drive for nothing? Is she really just sitting back here going on detours for no reason? Is this really how the day is going to go? Fucking really?

“So, where to next?” She leaned to her left, hoping to be close enough for the sheriff to hear. “This place is kinda cool”. Maybe if she kept talking, someone would give her a useful response. Remembering to stay friendly, she kept to the compliments. “I bet those big gas station windows look neat when the sun sets here”.

* * *

The drive was uneventful. Neither of them acknowledged her the entire time, which lead her to the decision that they really just .. didn’t like her. Consciously ignoring a person is very telling, and she was left to figure out what she did to offend them. The longer she sat with the thought, the angrier she became. It’s not like she wanted to even be here, that fucking sheriff was the one who put her in the back seat, he’s the one who took her along this stupid detour, the least he could do was respond to her.

Had she really offended them? Well.. Was it her clothing? Nothing about her outfit was form fitting or revealing. Was she too loud? Was it her voice? Did she mistakenly sound pissed off again? Really it could have been anything, she wasn’t always aware of her tone of voice or lack of expression. How she felt on the inside never quite matched what was showing on the outside. And knowing she unintentionally upset these two filled her with worry. Should she apologize? Is it too late? How bad of a first impression did she really leave on these guys?

Pulling off the road, the patrol car made its way through a long gravel pathway, leading to what Jill would call the biggest fucking house she'd ever seen. This was worth photographing. This was worth exploring. Her imagination could run free here. Large fields surrounded the two story home, weeds in every direction. For a short moment a clothesline full of white bed sheets passed her line of vision before disappearing out of sight when the car came to a stop.

The sudden rush that followed, left her physically stunned. The side door pulled open as she was lifted from the back seat, her head colliding with the roof of the car, amplifying her already pounding head. With a loud “fuck!” she closed her eyes, wincing. Everything spun, and she couldn’t find her footing. Swiftly she was tossed over a shoulder and carried inside before she could figure which way was up. Only a whimper escaped her lips as her limbs turned to jello, possibly from adrenaline. In a flight or fight response, Jill was the one who froze. All she could ever do in times of conflict, was freeze.

The temperature dropped as she was sheltered from the heat of outside. Heavy footsteps pounded beneath her as she felt herself bounce on the shoulder as they descended a creaky set of stairs into darkness. Her entire body jerked in sudden realization, gripping tightly onto the man holding her, panic igniting within her. 

"Careful!" Her voice finally broke free, sweat cooling on her skin as her heart raced watching the steps pass under her. Being dropped on the stairs was something that always bothered her. Rarely was she ever carried by another person, but to have them cross a flight of stairs at the same time felt like they were just asking for trouble. She couldnt relax herself, she remained rigid, clinging to him. It was too dark to see as her eyes had yet to adjust. 

Something sturdy slammed into her back, but as the movement stopped, she realized she was in fact laying down on a hard surface. A rhythmic splashing occured around her. Footsteps. Water. 

Attempting to sit up resulted in a forceful shove back down and more footsteps. Another attempt, and another forceful shove. Hands kept her down for a moment longer. A lightbulb brightened her surroundings.

Where the actual fuck is she right now?

She froze again. All she could do was whisper an apology as something cold pressed against her skin. Tommy began nailing her bindings to the table, the sudden noise causing her to flinch. This was killer on her headache, nausea washing over her. 

This was bad. There is absolutely no doubt in her mind that this is both the worst and last situation she will ever be in. She's seen enough TV to know, she's about to become a statistic. If sue wanted to make it out she would need to fight.

But she is The Quiet One who freezes in the face of danger. And that fucking hammer might as well be smashing into her skull, its disturbing her migraine intensely. 

They make eye contact. This time its not through a mirror. She wants to scream and beg for her life but nothing comes out. Her lack of fight fills her with shame.

Maybe she'll die quickly. Maybe she wont feel it. If she dies here she can finally see her dog in heaven again. Thats an oddly comforting thought. He needs to hurry up. She needs to be dead, away from this migraine, and with her dog pronto. Vision starts swimming as colors flash in her eyes. Damn. Migraine time is here and now. That nausea is coming here and fucking now. Eyes closed taking steady breathes through her nose, please for the love of god dont throw up. Dont let your last moment alive be spent puking over everything. 

 

Though that seems rather ironic. And fitting. Spent years of her life doing exactly that, though the situations were obviously different than now. 

Was now really the time to compare her disorder with her last moments alive? 

 

A loud roar ripped through her thoughts. That machine held above her head. That fucking chainsaw buzzing viciously, ready to maim and destroy. 

"Jesus!!" She couldn't pull away as it hovered above her, daring to rip her apart. "Fuck, my head!" Groaning, she shut her eyes tight. 

How long had that machine dangled above her? Was he just taunting her? Is this a game? Why is he doing this?! Why?!

The chainsaw was turned off and slammed down onto the table beside him, he was frustrated. She watched him with one eye open. He turned back towards her, this time a large menacing knife in his hand.

"Oh c'mon!" She whined, tears finally breaching. "Use the chainsaw, dont make me die a slow painful death!" 

Tommy watched her cry, she seemed just as frustrated as he was. 

"Kill me, I dont give a fuck. Just do it fast." Her tears flowed down her cheeks, pooling in her ears. Each sob was a nuke to her migraine. She wouldnt be able to see him even if she wanted to, colors filled her vision like a staticy kaleidoscope. This migraine was here to make this terrible situation even worse, because thats just typical of her life. 

His one free hand examining her face turned her head from side to side. 

"Im gonna puke.." 

Tommy gave her teeth a look, as she tried to push his fingers out of her mouth with her tongue.

"Im gonna puke! Move!" Her head turned away quickly, and with a final whine the damn migraine finally got her. She heaved and spewed across the table. She focused on her breathing, timing herself with each episode. A whispered apology between each new mess she made. God this was humiliating. Painful. Terrifying. Typical. Why not piss off the guy before he goes for the kill. Thats smart. He should have done it when he had the chance.

Large hands gently held her hair away from her face, letting her get through it, observing silently. Catching her breath, blushing madly, her body began to shiver. 

"Sorry.. " She weakly whispered. "I can clean that up.." 


End file.
